Thredson Manor
by Horrorxxxgirl
Summary: A strange thing is happening to one of Dr. Thredson's sons. OliverxOC
1. Chapter 1

She woke up, warm in bed. Her long copper hair messed up by the dark yet pale blue pillow beneath her head. She reached up and turned on the bedside lamp, the light shined through the skin of the shade as she sat up. She allowed the white blanket to fall off of her as she glanced at her sleeping husband. She snuck down stairs, not downstairs into his workshop, but into the living room.

Her small foot tripped on something, making her fall forward and knock down a handful of books. She had tripped over a bone. Why the heck couldn't he clean up after himself!? Oh, that's right...he had picked up after the kids...probably just forgot this. She got up and put the books away. Seeing their spines made tears sting at her eyes. Her diaries. From Auschwitz. She took out her latest one. From her last days in that awful place.

The last page was her wedding photo from when she married her husband: Dr. Oliver Thredson. "Mom?" asked a voice that belonged to one of her sons.

"Good morning," said the copper haired woman. "What are you doing up?"

"I had a nightmare...that daddy went to the asylum and never came back," said the boy who was obviously upset. Sister Jude, the only nun to give a six year old boy nightmares. He ran into her arms.

"You know daddy always comes home," said Mrs. Thredson. "I know you think Braircliff is scary and Sister Jude is terrifying, I know, but it's daddy's job."

"What are you looking at?" he asked her.

He never knew her mother being in Auschwitz and they saw no need in having to tell their kids. "Photos from me and daddy's wedding," she said happily. She pointed at a younger photo of Oliver. "You know who that is?" He shook his head. "Daddy."

"It doesn't look like daddy," he said. "He looks too young, daddy is old."

"How old do you think your daddy is?" asked the copper haired woman.

"Really old!" laughed the boy. "Um...like 21!"

Their daughter, Rose, began to cry from upstairs. "You certainly didn't cry as much as your little sister," said Mrs. Thredson. "But she's up, wait in the kitchen and I'll make you breakfast after I give Rose her breakfast and wake your brother."


	2. Typical Morning

"I want to play!" cried John, the brother of Holmes. He reached for a cereal box that Holmes held out of reach. "Let me play!"

John wanted to play with the toy in the box of Holmes' cereal. A red and silver air plane. "I'm eating breakfast!" snapped Holmes, brandishing his milky spoon at his brother.

"You don't even like the prize!" cried John. Fear that if he didn't get the plane now, Holmes would throw it away. Holmes didn't like the color red or air planes!

"John!" snapped Mrs. Thredson, Foster, who was trying to enjoy her pancakes. "You can play with the toy soon."

"I want to play now!" he screamed, slithering out of his chair. He stomped his feet on the kitchen floor, making Rose scream. Maybe Foster and Oliver should have kept them in booster seats for a little while longer.

"No, no, no!" taunted Holmes. Foster shot him a mean look. "You heard mommy!"

"Good morning, Thredsons," said Oliver joining everyone in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee. Foster scurried out of the kitchen to the living room. She saw all her photo albums strewn across the room. On the walls, in blood, was written: 'JEW'. Foster came into the kitchen upset and Oliver embraced her. "What's wrong?"

Foster looked at Holmes, through teary eyes. "Why!?" she cried. "Why would you throw my photos around and write Jew in red paint on the walls?"

Holmes gave her an odd look. "I did no such thing."

Oliver kissed Foster. He hoped it was just paint she saw. "Gotta get to the asylum," he said.

"Are you gonna swing by and drop the boys off at school?" asked Foster. She loved it when Oliver was fatherly.

"I can't today," said Oliver kissing Rose on the head.

"Are you gonna pick them up?" asked Foster. Not as sweet but it was something.

"I can't, got a meeting with Kit," said Oliver. Of course. Work always came first than his family. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Thredson."

Oliver kissed Foster as their boys stuck their tongues out and made a very loud ewwwwwww noise. Rose started to cry again. "Oh, no no, no don't cry. Don't cry," cooed Oliver, who kissed Rose again. Then, he was gone. Off to work.

A few hours later, Foster found herself at the piano and started to mess with the keys and soon, was trying to recreate the song she heard at Aushwitz. The song that Mengele was always whistling. Rose awoke and Foster pushed herself away from the piano, shaking her head, shaking the song out of her mind.

After she got Rose calmed down, she heard a weird scratching noise from the attic. All that was up there was a bunch of her husband's experimenting tools and various Nazi objects. She knew this about him, even before they were married, but they say love makes you do crazy things. As long as she did not push Judaism on Oliver, John, Holmes and Rose or at Braircliff, their marriage worked very well.

A shelf behind Foster held many a jars with human body parts in them. Foster loved these. They were real all right. Her favorite's were the testicles in the jar. From the corner of Foster's eye, it seemed the human eye blinked at her. Foster quickly turned the light off and left the attic.


End file.
